


Promise Me

by madnessiseverything



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Sunsets, beacon hills and peaceful? what universe is this?, promise rings, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 03:10:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4944538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnessiseverything/pseuds/madnessiseverything
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time passes slowly, Stiles shuffling closer to Scott as the temperatures drop gradually. Scott makes an attempt to unlace their hands to wrap his arm around Stiles, but Stiles clings to his hand with slight desperation and Scott goes back to watching the moon get more prominent as the last colors fade out of the sky like paint being thinned with water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise Me

**Author's Note:**

> Okay this started out cute but then things happened and let's face it: Beacon Hills and Angst are best friends.

Stiles leans back against the windshield of the Jeep, hands supporting his head against the hard surface. He heaves out a sigh and wiggles slightly. “This is nice,” he mumbles, eyes fixed onto the view of Beacon Hills and its sky.

Scott knocks his shoulder against Stiles’. “The sun isn’t even setting yet.” He turns away from the sight in front of them until he is facing Stiles instead, hand supported by his hand. He reaches out with his other hand and drags his fingertips over Stiles’ side. 

“You’re not looking properly, Scotty.” Stiles turns his head, peeking at Scott from behind his elbow with accusation playing across his face. Scott rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll start looking once the sky is prettier than you.” He forces his smile down, widening his eyes slightly with innocence. 

Stiles snorts. “Good luck with that,” he answers and turns his head away again, crossing his legs. Silence envelopes them and Scott pushes his focus on the town below them, the sky expanding over it. The sun would be sinking behind them, but with the single strips of thin clouds drawing over the slowly darkening sky it was promised to be a colorful display nonetheless. 

Stiles’ left hand drops from behind his head down between them, nimble fingers searching for Scott’s to intertwine with. Scott feels the smile stretch his lips wide, a bubble of happiness growing behind his ribs. He grabs hold of Stiles’ wandering hand and laces his fingers into the spaces between Stiles’. He hears Stiles’ heart skip a beat and grins. He pulls their joined hands up to his lips and kisses Stiles’ knuckles, still bruised from the last time he punched a wall in anger.

He hates the way Stiles tenses. He smooths his thumb over the back of Stiles’ hand and looks back at the sky. Stiles tugs their hands back down and settles them on his stomach. Scott feels his eyes burning into the side of his skull. “Now you’re not looking properly.” 

“Shut up,” Stiles mumbles without any malice. They watch as the sky in front of them changes shade, the clouds tinted pink and red, the sky darkening with each minute that passes. Stiles is unusually still, the tapping of the hand still behind his head the only external display of his normal jittering. Scott isn’t sure if he is relieved at the quiet or terrified of it. 

Time passes slowly, Stiles shuffling closer to Scott as the temperatures drop gradually. Scott makes an attempt to unlace their hands to wrap his arm around Stiles, but Stiles clings to his hand with slight desperation and Scott goes back to watching the moon get more prominent as the last colors fade out of the sky like paint being thinned with water. 

“This might be the cheesiest thing we have done,” Stiles whispers into the approaching night and Scott turns to face him with a smile. Stiles slowly unwraps his grip on Scott’s hand in order to bury his face in Scott’s shoulder. Scott wraps his arm around Stiles and tugs him even closer. He places his chin on top of Stiles’ head and sighs. 

“Possibly,” Scott answers once they got comfortable, stroking Stiles’ back absentmindedly. Stiles relaxes against him and Scott finds his mind wandering. 

No matter the quiet night around them, Beacon Hills isn’t peaceful; Scott doubts it will ever be. But no dead bodies have appeared in the last week and it has been quiet. They know better than to put down their defenses, but it feels nice to not worry for a while. Things were far from okay, but they weren’t as horrible as they could be. 

Stiles isn’t as stable as everybody expects him to be and Scott doesn’t feel like an alpha, hasn’t felt like one for a while. It eats at the both of them, how much things have changed. Scott knows they can’t go back to normal, to sophomore year. Normal doesn’t exist for them, not anymore. But sometimes he wishes they could live like any other teenager; without outbursts of anger, nightmares, panic attacks and soul crushing guilt. Without the fear of losing a loved one every time you cannot see them. 

Scott breathes in and exhales slowly, hoping for the breath to carry away the thoughts. Stiles shifts against him, hand tracing patterns into Scott’s hipbone. “When do you think it’ll come crashing down?” The human asks quietly, voice slightly muffled by Scott’s jacket. 

And Scott wants to say ‘never again’ so badly. Both boys know that’s not true, the Nemeton will continue to draw attention to Beacon Hills. Their hope of escaping after high school is dimmed by their tendency to brush with death. One day it will stick. 

“I don’t care,” Scott mutters as he leans his head back against the jeep and starts running his fingers through Stiles’ hair. “We’ll be ready if it does.” Neither mentions the hopeful ‘if’. 

Stiles sighs loudly and shifts his head to meet Scott’s brown eyes with his own. Scott smiles hesitantly at the unreadable expression on Stiles’ face. Stiles smiles back and leans up to place a gentle kiss on Scott’s lips. “I can work with that answer,” he says and Scott pulls him closer, their noses brushing. 

“I love you,” he whispers, lips grazing Stiles’ ever so slightly as he spoke. 

Stiles smiles, his eyes reflecting Scott’s face back at him. Then he pulls away slightly, sitting up. Scott mourns the loss of their proximity and is ready to question it, when Stiles raises a hand. “Hang on.” The human jumps off of the hood and walks around to the driver’s side. Scott can hear his heart thudding and a lump grows in his throat. Stiles opens the door and Scott can see him grab something before slamming the door shut and pulling himself up onto the hood again with a lot more grace than Scott was used to. 

“Stiles?” Scott hates how uncertain his voice is. Stiles just smiles at him and grabs hold of Scott’s hand with both his own. 

“I want you to promise something to me, Scotty.” The seriousness in Stiles’ voice makes Scott’s own heart beat almost in unison to Stiles’. He nods slowly. 

“What?” He asks quietly. Stiles presses something into his palm and uncurls one hand to let Scott look down. A ring is shining in the darkness, silver stark against Scott’s skin. He looks back up to find Stiles’ eyes on his, hazel shining with what Scott recognizes as unshed tears.

“Promise me that we’ll live long enough to get married one day.” Scott can’t find air in his lungs. Stiles is staring at him with hope, something Scott used to think was too expensive for this town. He is staring at him with hope and adoration and Scott can’t breathe. 

“Promise me, Scott. Please.” Stiles’ voice is shaking now and the grip he still has on Scott’s hand tightens. Scott finally finds strength to breathe and drags in air that smells too much like Stiles’ fears. 

“Stiles,” he says because they know he can’t. He can’t promise them to live long enough to graduate, to move away for college and eventually live to see each other in front of an altar. Stiles shakes his head and closes Scott’s hand around the ring. He avoids Scott’s stare, eyes focusing on their hands. Scott feels the cold ring dig into his palm and he swallows. 

“Okay,” he says. Stiles’ head snaps up. Scott smiles, and he means it. “I promise, Stiles.” 

Stiles lets out a choked laugh before surging forward and crashing their mouths together. Scott’s free hand flies up to tangle in Stiles’ hair and pull him closer. It tastes like desperation and fear, like all the horror their lives have experienced, but Scott doesn’t mind. He feels love and that stubborn spark of hope expanding within his chest and Stiles’ ring stinging in his palm and he doesn’t need anything else. 

Stiles’ teeth tug on his bottom lip and Scott forces himself to pull away ever so slightly. Stiles grins up at him and Scott wants to get into the Jeep and never look back at Beacon Hills if that grin was all Stiles would express from now on. 

He looks down at his hand that is still curled around the ring, Stiles’ hand wrapped around it. He pries Stiles’ fingers open and examines the ring. It’s simple, silver and smooth. 

“I’m not sure if it’s the right size,” Stiles admits quietly. Scott looks up. 

“Why don’t we find out?” He nods to his hand and Stiles grabs the ring, his other hand gently tugging Scott’s from between them. Scott watches as Stiles furrows his eyebrows slightly, tongue pressed into the corner of his mouth. He feels cool metal on his finger and looks down. 

“It’s a bit big, but it should be fine, right?” Stiles looks at the ring, uncertainty lingering over his face. Scott wiggles his fingers. The feeling of a ring is foreign, but a smile spreads on his face. 

“It’s perfect, Stiles,” he can’t help but say. “Where’s yours?” The question makes Stiles straighten and he grins. He digs through his own pocket for a few seconds before sliding a matching ring onto his own finger. 

“There,” he says and grabs Scott’s hand, holding their rings into the sky. Scott likes the tingling that goes through his hands as he watches the moon play across the surface of their matching bands. Stiles exhales into the night. “I love you too,” he mutters as if remembering he didn’t return the sentiment earlier. Scott feels Stiles grab his chin and turns his head. Stiles kisses him and it’s slow, so very different from their lives. Scott’s eyes slide shut with contentment. The night is peaceful and Scott is thankful for it, responding to the pressure against his lips.

Their moment of quiet, of peace won’t stay, they know it. Once they get into the Jeep, they will go back to their lives. A dead body will turn up sooner rather than later, they will find a new supernatural threat prowling around Beacon Hills. Stiles will hit another wall in frustration, and Scott will brush with death too closely because the supernatural world doesn’t stop. 

But right now, Scott melts into the kiss, Stiles’ lips eager against his. Their hands drop from the air, twisting into cloth. Stiles’ teeth graze his bottom lip again and this time, he doesn’t pull away. He parts his lips, inviting Stiles in. He pulls Stiles closer, the ring a warm weight against his knuckle. 

Scott will keep this one promise if all the others shatter like glass.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :) These two will be the death of me and I needed to write something with promise rings and sunsets and boys wishing to survive.  
> Tell me how you liked it in the comments, I will appreciate any and all feedback.


End file.
